UNIVERSE / BTS.

55: comfort / namgi

COMFORT

WORD COUNT 4k
OVERVIEW where namjoon finds comfort in a complete stranger, if only for a little while. ( mega angst / namjoon is mute and yoongi is deaf )

PLAYLIST spring day / bts, the truth untold / bts

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NAMJOON'S FOUND A SLIGHT comfort in yellow walls and creeper plants, rain all around him but never touching his honey skin. the space is small, cosy, and the straw-woven seat he's sat on is the perfect size for two, but he occupies it with himself and a carefully selected book of poems; a different one to fit each mood.

all he can hear is the gentle rainfall and his own fingers turning the crisp, snowy white pages of his book; today is a fernando pessoa day, all grey clouds and puddles some can find beautiful, the verses translated from portuguese into namjoon's second tongue, english. he loves how the words roll off the tongue, the poetry sounding so strange and mystical. just like the strange little garden around the back of the old-people's home that namjoon's become so fond of. 

namjoon's grandmother has never been all that well. he's known that since ten years old, which was when his granddad died, and the loveliest woman in the world somehow became the saddest. he'd sit and listen, a cup of tea that was too sweet in his hands, in her living room with the purple wallpaper, listen to stories long passed and love now lost. namjoon adores his grandmother; she'd taught him how to appreciate the small things in life, how to write and appreciate poetry, how to be a better person. it's now nine years on from his grandfather's death, and namjoon's grandmother, ill with pulmonary cancer, lives in a home, and he visits for two hours every saturday and sunday, to listen to the same stories and hear how much he's grown, how much he looks like his father, how proud of him she is. he loves her with all of his heart, that much is true.

the garden that he sits reading poetry in is another story.

the cherry blossom tree above namjoon's head rustles in the slight breeze, and the rain starts to cease. namjoon looks up from page 34, finger underneath a line, and sees the sun peeking out from the sad grey clouds. he smiles; it makes him feel warmer, uplifted. he crosses his legs once again, and focuses his eyes back on the page, sucked back in by the gorgeous words that entice like a melody. he should be getting home, but he wants to forget his responsibilities.

just for a bit longer.

he doesn't notice the other human coming into the garden space, too caught up in the words, ears only picking up on the miniature fountain in the corner, his legs coming to huddle up against him. comfortable. it's the creak of a chair and a cough, not one meant to catch his attention, that makes him look up. he searches for the source of the sound, deep honey eyes flitting from corner to corner. they finally fall on the culprit of the noise.

he's half illuminated in the sunlight that's only just started to come, but it's enough for namjoon to pick up on his face. pale skin, like the pages of his book, that's what he first notices, and how it's marred by a few acne scars and the like on his cheeks. a button nose, tinged pink from the chilly spring weather. lips that seem kind of plump, tinged candyfloss and pretty, chapped a little, like chips in a roman statue. namjoon's eyes drink in the rest of his face; lightly flushed cheeks, eyes suited fairly well to a cat, that sparkle oddly in the half light, like he's magical or something.

his strangely bright blue hair is curly, contrasting softly on his china features, and it's then that namjoon wishes he could speak, because he wants to say hello, wants to be fucking normal. his muteness has become worse since fourteen; he never spoke to many people, a loner, and then his parents stopped really caring, and he just gave up. selective mutism is hard, and namjoon only speaks to his grandma and his best friend jackson– although he more than makes up for namjoon's silence, nattering on forever. namjoon could write stanzas about beauty, wax poetic on the boy, but never talk.